


Time to Talk

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [116]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF, The Boys (TV 2019) RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: In Citadel, Antony Starr is an AU (alternate universe) character. He tells people he's an IT Risk Management and Computer Security Consultant (his official cover) but really he's a ex-military, sometimes mercenary, computer hacker and master thief hired by collectors and other ruthless people to steal for them: art, jewels, money, information... Citadel knows Antony's true occupation and he would never target the organization or any of its membership. Through Cit, he's met Stephen Amell (played RL) and fallen hard. This is their story.





	Time to Talk

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

  
**players only. takes place a couple days after[this extended fisting scene.](https://antony-starr.dreamwidth.org/14820.html)**

_warnings: none_

Stephen had had a good day on set, had come home with Christos in tow, sorted through some paperwork at the dining room table with his new PA and then shooed him out of the door not long after Antony had come home. Dinner had, unusually, been eaten on their laps in front of a movie and they'd settled in for an early night.

So far today Stephen's spent the morning in the gym a few floors down from their apartment. He'd observed the restrictions Kim had put on him and had completed his routine with ease. Now, back upstairs in his home he's showering off the sweat and looking forward to a lazy lunch with his husband.

Antony had gone into the office for a couple of hours, signing some new security contracts and checking in with Marcus over a secure line about the upcoming job. Pleased with everything, he stops at the little gourmet grocery store a block down from their place and picks up a selection of cold items for lunch. He lingers over dessert for a moment but now that Stephen is back to work, he heads for the checkout without buying anything. Not because he thinks Stephen needs to watch his weight but because his husband's asked for his help in following his stricter work diet. Besides, there are cookies in the cupboard if they want them.

Brown paper bag tucked under his arm, he lets himself into the penthouse, calling out, "Hey honey, I'm home." The words making him grin like a fool.

Stephen laughs to himself at Antony's greeting, he tugs on a long sleeve tee and pads, barefoot, out to the living area. "Hey darling man." He feels better for the workout and the shower, better than he has since they scened the night before last, like he has both feet back on the ground and his head back in the game.

Antony's grin actually _widens_ at the sight of his husband. "I stopped at Bruno's," he says, gesturing towards the various containers and packages he's set on the island. "You want to grab some plates?"

"Oooh genius," Stephen grins, he slides an arm around Antony's waist and gives him a quick squeeze and a kiss before continuing to the kitchen. "I'm going to make a pot of coffee, you in?"

Antony smiles at the kiss. "Sure. I could use some water though too," he says, removing lids and sniffing contents, his stomach grumbling already. "How was your morning?"

"Good, I'm still having to work hard to get through it, which means I slipped a little while I was off, but I'm sure I'll be up to speed soon enough. And my leg is feeling good, I'm confident and Kim is making all the right noises so yeah..." He switches the coffee machine on before he pulls a large bottle of water from the fridge.

"That's great," Antony says, grabbing paper towels and some cutlery. "I'm glad we got on it and that Kim's working out. Christos too," he adds with another smile.

"Yeah me too," Stephen busies himself with glasses and coffee mugs, setting it all out on the counter before sliding onto one of the breakfast bar stools.

Antony digs in, filling his plate and passing containers over to Stephen for him to help himself. "I booked us into Citadel New York for Friday and Saturday," he says, adding a couple slices of sourdough baguette to his meal. "Submitted the flight plan."

It takes Stephen a moment to catch up, then he nods. "Thank you, I'm in the mood for some culture," he flicks his gaze up to Antony before buttering a slice of bread. "Will you want to play?"

"Nothing too heavy." Antony pops an olive into his mouth. "I thought we'd make it a date weekend. Museums, art galleries, food," he grins. "Maybe catch a show."

Reaching out a smile playing over his mouth, Stephen murmurs a "Hold up," he wipes his thumb over Antony's bottom lip. "You're romantic's showing."

Antony chuckles. "You deserve it," he says with a smile.

"I do?" His attention back on his food, because he's just realising _how_ hungry he is after his workout, Stephen grins. "You always say that."

"Because it's true," Antony insists. "You make me happy, happier than I've ever been, and I like trying to do the same for you."

Pausing, his fork halfway to his mouth, Stephen looks at his husband. "You don't need to _try_. I am happy, incredibly so, more than I thought I could ever hope to be. Just you being... you, it's enough, I don't need trips to New York, or private jets," he grins impishly at that. "Nice as it is, it's just icing on the icing on the cherry of the cake of my life."

"I'm glad to hear it," Antony says, smiling, leaning forward, watching Stephen for a moment. "But I still like spoiling you - and remember, we even put it in our contract."

"Huh," Stephen expresses surprise. "Of course we did," he agrees. "Is it weird I don't think about that much any more? Something I used to crave, a permanent contract, and here I am living it and not really giving it much conscious thought?"

"Not at all. I think that's great." Antony takes a bite of prosciutto. "I want us to be us, not led or bound by any contract."

Snorting Stephen waves his fork at Antony, "Can I remind you of that when you decide to punish me again?" he asks drily.

Antony laughs. "I don't punish you very often," he points out, having become a little more relaxed on that front.

"That's because I'm a very good boy," Stephen laughs, not even believing his own words 100%. There is little he does that might merit censure, but he's still conscious of the threat of it, that Antony will discipline him if he felt it appropriate.

"You are," Antony nods. "Which makes me a very lucky Sir." He grins at Stephen, popping another slice of prosciutto into his mouth.

Stephen side-steps having to reply to that by squinting his eyes up and asking, "Did you save me any of that?"

"Yes," Antony laughs, pushing the package in Stephen's direction. "How are you feeling after the other day?"

Refusing to give it much thought he deflects with a dirty grin. "It didn't hurt to shit this morning, so that's a win right?" He knows that's probably not what Antony's getting at, but he's not going to give it up that easily.

"Definitely," Antony agrees, starting to slow down with his food now that he's satisfied his hunger. "But I was thinking more along the lines of what we talked about. You being slave."

There's a visible drooping of Stephen's shoulders at that. He finishes his mouthful and nudges his plate away with his fingers, wipes over his mouth with a napkin and picks up his coffee mug, all to give himself a few moments to think. "It is what it is. I am your slave. Denying it won't help."

"Why does it bother you so much?" Antony wants to understand. For someone like Stephen who's always wanted to be someone's boy, wanted to be owned, he would have thought this was even better.

Arms folded on the countertop Stephen leans in over his coffee, he gives Antony's question the consideration it deserves. "When I submit, whenever I've submitted, before you, with you, it was always out of choice. Even if there were times I did it because I had to satisfy the need rather than because I wanted to, I always had a choice." He pauses, thinking back to how it was for him the night before last. "Being slave is not something I choose, it just is. I have no control over it. All that power is yours, to switch it on or off."

"And that scares you?" Antony reaches for the bottle of water, topping up his glass.

"Of course it does. How would you feel if someone had absolute control over you, could make you do anything they wanted and you'd be unable to stop yourself, because all there is, is the need to please?" He knows Antony won't understand that, can't understand it.

"But you trust me. You know I wouldn't hurt you," Antony points out. "That I wouldn't take advantage."

"Yes, of course," Stephen purses his lips, clearly exasperated at himself. "But knowing something intellectually isn't the same as knowing it on an instinctive level. I've always had _some_ control left, the ability to get out if I needed to, but this... this is all. It's like jumping down a black hole and not knowing what, if anything, is at the bottom."

Antony nods. He gets it. He does. He's had moments like that when he was being tortured. Where he didn't know if he'd ever be able to come back. Christ. "So, what do we do?" he asks. "Do you want me not to push you to that point?"

"Do you push me? Or isn't it somewhere we find ourselves when the play is deep or harder than usual?" He thinks back to the scene in Goa, and how humiliated he'd been and how conflicted he'd felt after the fact.

"I guess so, but that still begs the question of whether we shouldn't be playing so deep or that hard," Antony says, unsure what they do otherwise. How does Stephen ever get right with it if it's like he says?

And that? The idea that Antony will have to dial down how they play because of his own shortcomings makes Stephen feel like a failure. His chin dips down and his posture shifts subtly, reaching across the counter he seeks out Antony's fingers. "I will always give you what you need, and I will get right with this," he promises softly.

"How?" Antony asks, even as he links his fingers with Stephen's and gives them a squeeze. "How do you get right with something you have no control over? That feels wrong to you."

"Because it's what you need from me," Stephen whispers, refusing to look up from their joined hands.

"Not if it's going to _hurt_ you," Antony responds. He may be a sadist and he may love tearing Stephen apart and then putting him back together but he needs it to be something they both want.

"Then I've failed," Stephen moves to pull his hand away from Antony's grip. "If I can't give you what you need."

"No, you haven't," Antony says firmly, gripping tighter. "What I need is for us to be in this together. For you to take pleasure, at least on some level, in what we do. I don't _need_ anything that makes you feel this scared and down on yourself."

"Please," Stephen tugs at his hand. "Please let me go," he pleads quietly. He just needs to get up and move, to allow himself a moment to think. "I... just give me a minute?"

Antony nods, releasing Stephen's hand. "I'll clean up," he says quietly, placing his plate on top of his husband's, his mind a riot of emotions he can't quite separate right now.

Sliding from his stool, Stephen leaves the kitchen and moves into the lounge, he wanders over to the windows and stands before them, arms wrapped around himself as he looks out over the city below him. His eyes lose focus as his attention is turned inward. He can hear Antony moving around behind him, and he hates this, feeling unable to be all his Sir needs of him, and unable to fix it for himself.

Antony forces himself to take his time, reclosing containers and wrapping packages in plastic wrap before he puts them in the fridge. Dirty dishes get put in the dishwasher, the counters given a swipe. He can't help glancing over at Stephen, wishing he knew what to say to make things better. It feels like they keep going around in circles on this, anything Antony says no match for the inner dialogue his husband has going on.

Turning on the ball of his foot, Stephen pulls his gaze back into focus, and he watches his husband move around for a moment. There is tension in his husband's form, it's subtle, but he can read Antony like no one else. "Tony?"

"Yeah?" Antony takes a step out of the kitchen, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"I think I've been forgetting something, something really important," Stephen starts, his body language hasn't relaxed at all, his arms are still crossed tight over his chest.

Antony takes another step closer. "What's that?"

"It's supposed to be about me too." It sounds stupid saying it out loud, but it's true, Stephen's lost sight that he should be finding pleasure in their scenes too.

Antony stares at Stephen for a moment then nods, "Yeah, it is. It's supposed to be about _us_."

Stephen makes himself move, forces his arms down to his sides, he walks around the sofa and sits down in his usual spot, however he doesn't sprawl out, he draws his legs up and makes himself as small as possible. "I've been making it all about you, about pleasing you."

"I know you have," Antony says, blowing out a soft breath before joining Stephen on the sofa. He could say more but he wants his husband to get it out, everything he's thinking, feeling, without interruption.

Turning to look at his husband Stephen's brow wrinkles up. "If you knew that, why didn't you say something?"

"I did," Antony protests. "I said we needed to be in this together. I said this was about your pleasure, not just mine."

"Oh, I thought you meant you'd realised that before today," Stephen sets his chin on his knee. "I think I started losing sight of that before the wedding, desperate to be such a good boy for you."

"I _did_ realize it before today, and I've been trying to say things. In New Zealand, in Goa, but I don't think you were really taking them in," Antony says. "And I didn't want to push. You've seemed out of sorts and I didn't know how much of that to put down to the big scene here..."

And it's true, put there in words, unable to pretend it's not been the case, Stephen has to admit that he's not been right for a few months now. His arms tighten around his legs and he closes his eyes for a moment. "I'm scared, Antony," he admits softly.

Antony nods, putting his arms around Stephen and giving him a hug. "Can we talk about it?"

"I think I need to," Stephen murmurs. "I'm scared I'm getting this wrong and I'm not going to be what you need," he admits. Because pleasing Antony is his raison d'etre, and he's been subjugating his own needs and desires to be what he's thought Antony wanted. _Slave._

"And what do you think is going to happen if you're not what I need?" Antony asks. "Which, by the way, isn't going to happen since _you're_ what I need, full stop." Which doesn't ever seem to be something he can convince Stephen of.

"It's something I've had impressed on me, that I needed to be the best boy I could be, that I had to please and be pleasing," Stephen turns his face into Antony's chest and loosens his hold on his own legs. "And when I met you, you were like my dream dominant, everything I ever hoped for, rolled into this gorgeous, blue eyed, warm man. So the urge to be all I could be for you... it's huge."

Stephen hasn't answered his question but it doesn't matter. Whatever it takes for him to work through this. "I get that," Antony says, and he does, "but what I wanted - what I still is want - is just you. We're not only Sir and boy, but lovers and husbands... and friends. Having all of that in one package makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world. _You_ make me happy. Not slave, not boy, not only one part of you. I want all of it, in whatever mix feels right to you. And if putting one of those parts aside for now works best and has you happiest, that works for me. And you know me. You know I wouldn't say this if I didn't mean it."

"I've lost all my perspective." It's a statement, and one that sits extremely uncomfortable with Stephen. "There is Stephen Amell - actor, and there is Stephen - Antony's boy. And I've lost sight of all the other parts of myself, I put the D/s before all the rest." And with that comes the understanding he's been underselling himself, Antony and their entire relationship. He'd had a hint of this when he'd seen that shrink Matt had arranged, that Antony was his entire focus, and that perhaps that wasn't as healthy as it should be.

"So what do we do?" Antony asks. "Do you want to see that doctor again? Do you want to make a concerted effort to bump up your friendships, your activities outside us?"

"And you'll be okay with that?" Stephen lifts his head, searching Antony's face. Because this? This is the opposite of how he was expected to behave with Cam - when Cam's needs came first, second and third. When he'd let friendships slide to make sure he was free in case Cam summoned him.

"Definitely," Antony says with a smile. "You have my calendar, you know when I'm home. I don't expect you to cancel plans or not do something just because I'm here but I know you'll make time for me too."

"I'm going to need help," Stephen reaches up to let his fingers play over that smile. "It's an ingrained mindset, I might even, perversely, need you to boss me into doing some of these things," he manages a smile at that.

Antony chuckles. "Why don't you start by having your work guys over while I'm away?" he suggests. "Katie, David, Willa... Have Citadel deliver a spread of finger foods and wine and just chill out for a couple of hours."

"Here?" Stephen blinks at that. "But..." he trails off, Antony wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. "Let me think about it." He might be more comfortable taking them all out dinner instead, at least to start with.

"Okay, but do something with someone, even if it's just drinks after work," Antony says, and if it sounds a bit like an order, maybe it is. Because at heart, they both tend to do this, divide their life into work and home/each other with no room for anything else and he knows, left to his own devices, with Stephen away, _he'd_ be at home not seeking anyone out either.

"I promise, I'll do something," Stephen assures his husband. "But... what about... the kink, about that part of us?" Him going out with his workmates a few times is not going to fix this.

Antony's quiet, thinking, concerned about setting Stephen off again. "I have some ideas," he says after a moment, "but I want to hear to what you think we should do."

Pushing up out of his husband's arms Stephen rubs his hand over his mouth. "I... I don't know. I mean, it would seem maybe we should ease off on that for a little? But the idea..." He waves his hand around a little. "It freaks me out to be honest."

"Well, let's try it this way," Antony suggests, because he agrees. Fully. "No extended scenes, no heavy-duty scenes, no serious fisting and by that I mean more than one hand and for more than a short length of time, _and_ if you go non-verbal on me, I'm going to stop and call you back then." He pauses, blowing out a soft breath. "What do you think? Too much? Not enough?"

Stephen's fingers close around his collar, as Antony speaks, panic rising in his chest. _This is it, this is the beginning of the end._ A slow deep breath and he pushes the urge down. "Give me a time frame, please?" he pleads, because he can deal with knowing these restrictions have an end date.

"Let's say two months." It's obvious Stephen's freaking out but Antony can't picture any other way forward. "That puts us in the middle of the month I have home and depending on how you're feeling then, we can try something longer, slowly put back in some of that stuff."

"And can we mitigate that? Have some real dates, we've let those slip, just normal vanilla dates?" He needs Antony to know he still needs him, needs to be with him.

Antony nods. "Of course. That's why we're having our date weekend in New York," he says with a smile, reaching to link their fingers. He wouldn't have pulled back the way they've decided without Stephen saying he needed it but he had booked them into Citadel based more on privacy and security than any intention to use the facilities.

"But... I still need Sir." And as he says that, Stephen realises that, that not only is that not strictly true - he needs _Antony_ \- but to insist that he needs Antony as Sir is a sign of how unhealthy this has gotten for him. "No..." he shakes his head. "No... you, I need you."

"You and I are going to spend the rest of our lives together," Antony says softly, leaning in close. "Two months is nothing in the face of that." Raising Stephen's hand to his mouth and kissing the back. "And I'm still here. I'm still yours. Always will be."

"And you won't take Sir from me completely?" He holds Antony's gaze, allowing himself to be soothed by the warmth and love he sees there.

"No, I won't," Antony promises. "But we should probably stick with your day collar for the two months. You okay with that?"

There's a sick little roll in the pit of his belly, but Stephen understands, at least he thinks he does. "Okay, if that's what you think is best," he nods. So long as he has a collar on, he'll know they are still in this, his contract intact.

Antony smiles. "I love you."

And that is all there is to it Stephen's starting to realise. Antony loves him; Stephen, just as he is. And he loves Antony - all the aspects of him. It's as complicated and as simple as that. "I love you too, darling man."


End file.
